Why are we even having this conversation?
I pose that question because it is the rare moment when a community faces a choice that is beyond obvious. Until the dollars hit you squarely in the face, of course. That is where we are now.
Picture yourself walking onto a car lot. The salesperson rushes over: “Let me show you the newest model—the 2025–2075 South Berkshire Community Builder. It’s got everything: seats 485 comfortably (planning for the future!), so energy-efficient it practically pays for itself, and built with all the safety features and technology you’ll need now and for decades to come. Whether your passengers are headed vocational or AP, this one goes everywhere. And here’s the kicker: The manufacturer (the Commonwealth) will chip in $62 million. Your out-the-door price? About $90 million. But hurry. Only one left at this price.”
With those once-in-a-lifetime incentives, hard to pass on, right? Except for those who want to take a hard pass. So, for them, the salesperson shows them another option: “Of course, if shiny new isn’t your thing, maybe a bit bougie for your taste, we’ve also got this late-1960s ‘classic.’ Some might call it a ‘fixer-upper,’ though that’s beyond generous. The odometer’s maxed out, the suspension creaks, and it’s never going to run the way you need, now or into the future. But hey—with enough paint, parts, pain, and serious disruption, maybe it’ll get you from here to there. Price tag? Funny thing—it’s also about $90 million.”
That, in a nutshell, is the Monument Mountain Regional High School (MMRHS) decision: pay the same for a brand-new school that actually works now and into the future, or pour the same amount into a relic that will never meet our community’s needs—now and into the future. When I was in high school, we called that a “no-brainer.”
The cost question
At first glance, $90 million for a school sounds extravagant (unless compared to a $125 million Texas high school football stadium, of course). But context matters. The state has offered an extraordinary deal: roughly two-thirds of the cost of a new building will be covered through grants and reimbursements. And the savings mount due to long-term energy efficiencies. But that subsidy is tied to new construction, not to patching up our dilapidated facility.
The alternative—sinking nearly the same sum, if not more, into renovations—yields no state support. And anyone who has ever owned a “fixer-upper” knows that once you start pulling up floorboards and opening walls and ducts, the hidden costs multiply. That $90 million renovation sticker price may just be the beginning. Here’s to hoping we never find out.
The education reality
Buildings are not just bricks and mortar; they are vessels for what happens inside. The current Monument was designed in the late 1960s, when classrooms were built like boxes and vocational training was an afterthought. Today, education demands flexibility: labs that adapt, collaborative spaces, technology wired in from the ground up.
A new Monument can be tailored to the future—whether that is advanced placement, skilled trades, or emerging fields we have not yet imagined. Renovating the old structure is like trying to shoehorn Bluetooth into an eight-track player. You can force it, but it will never work quite right.
The societal reality
Berkshire Hills Regional School District Superintendent Dr. Peter Dillon has invoked Winston Churchill’s reminder more than once: “We shape our buildings; thereafter, they shape us.” It’s more than a clever turn of phrase. Modern research backs it up—school buildings do not just house students, they mold their futures. When the walls are crumbling and the systems failing, achievement suffers. When modern spaces are designed for light, collaboration, and current learning models, students thrive. The question before us is simple: Which kind of building do we want shaping our children—shaping our community—for the next half century?
While I trust Dr. Dillon knows what he is talking about, I researched the question myself. It is no surprise that smaller classes boost performance. What did surprise me was how much classroom quality matters. Students in better school facilities do not just score higher in the short term—they go on to earn more, attend college at higher rates, save more for retirement, and live in better neighborhoods. Even more striking, while test-score gains tend to fade, the gains in non-cognitive skills—motivation, persistence, confidence—endure. In short, environment matters.
Long-term studies tracking students from kindergarten make the point unmistakable: A community’s investment in school facilities can shape life trajectories—sometimes dramatically. I was skeptical that something as basic as the state of a building could be isolated as a factor in long-term achievement. Yet the research is remarkably consistent: Students in better facilities achieve more, while those in substandard schools fall behind. Of course, decrepit schools suggest other environmental deficiencies, but the through line is clear: Facilities are a significant driver of outcomes.
It certainly takes more than new whiteboards and computers to achieve success. It is likely that schools with substandard facilities have trouble retaining experienced teachers (most highly correlated to student achievement) and attracting quality teachers in the first place. Perhaps teachers look at the state of a school and extrapolate what it means for the community’s overall educational investment.
It may also be that students have higher achievement in better facilities due to the implicit message to students that the community cares enough to invest in the school and them. The sense of pride that a quality facility engenders may drive student motivation.
Consider that MMRHS is the only unrenovated high school in Berkshire County. Sure, we revere old, but appreciation for antiquities is misplaced in a facility that lacks new technologies and modern labs. We have heard much about MMRHS’s failing HVAC system. Perhaps students at MMRHS concentrate on whether it is too hot or too cold rather than the lesson being taught.
The evidence is clear: A modern school is critical to students’ lifetime achievement. We owe it to them, and to our community’s future, to give every student the foundation for a successful life.
The community stakes
Schools are more than service providers; they are symbols. They say something about how a town sees itself and invests in its future. A new Monument Mountain is not just about today’s students, but about tomorrow’s families deciding whether to plant roots here.
Employers, too, take note: Strong schools make strong communities, and strong communities attract talent. Wash and repeat and we build a sustainable community for the next century, which is a better cycle than a rust-and-bust tumble. This is a fork-in-the-road moment… and only one path gets us close to where we want to be.
Think of it as curb appeal for the entire region. Do we want to showcase a gleaming model that signals promise and progress? Or keep patching up a relic, hoping prospective families and employers don’t notice the asbestos-laden duct tape?
No choice
In the end, the question is n ot whether to spend $90 million—we are going to, one way or another.
Supporters of the new school have posted a tax calculator—helpful in one sense, but misleading in another. It shows that Great Barrington property taxes will rise by about 10 percent no matter which path we take. In other words, the cost is essentially a wash. What the calculator does not capture is the bigger picture: the once-in-a-generation opportunity to show that we are willing to invest in our community and its future.
I am not deaf to the fact that Great Barrington’s property taxes are already high, and adding another 10 percent is no small matter. How we got here—and how we fix it—is a conversation we must have. Soon enough, we will. Town Moderator Michael Wise has proposed a residential tax exemption, which would cover Monument’s costs without raising taxes on most residents, a position I have also endorsed.
But that is a debate for another day and needs three Selectboard votes. Right now, we face a true Morton’s fork: Whether we build new or renovate, the bill is the same $90 million.
Two paths, one $90 million destination. The upcoming school vote masquerades as a choice—new school or old school—but the price tag is identical while the societal benefits could not be further apart. That is no choice at all. This is a monumental decision, and there is only one real answer.
Survey Monkey Question
Here is a link to the following Survey Monkey poll: “Given the realities of the situation, do you agree that the right answer—the only answer—is to vote ‘yes’ on November 4?”
Survey Monkey Results
Here is the result of the following recent survey question: “Does Massachusetts need to rethink its housing policy to help rural towns house essential personnel?”
As of publication, 100 percent said “yes.”
